The Essence of Wood
by MWPPMarauders
Summary: ONESHOT Oliver Wood Katie Bell After being reported for an unhealthy Quidditch obsession Oliver is ordered to write an essay about what makes him Oliver Wood. Much to his displeasure, the team assists Oliver in writing his essay. r&r please


**The Essence of Wood**

Today is not a good day. Not because I woke up this morning covered in maple syrup due to a cruel prank by the Weasley twins. Or even because I hit my head on the table retrieving my fork from the floor during lunch. You might even think it was because the Weasleys had missed practiced due to their third detention of the week. No, it was because Katie Bell decided I was focusing too much on Quidditch and not enough on friends, family, and school.

Now I'm stuck writing an essay on what makes me who I am; Oliver Wood. You're probably wondering why I would have to do that. Well, my lovely chaser decided to report me to McGonagall for over-obsession and putting Quidditch before my safety. So what if I told my team I'd jump off my broom to keep the quaffle from going into the hoops? I wouldn't have actually done it. Okay, maybe I would have. But as you can see today is not a good day.

I sigh frustrated as I stare down at my supposed essay. So far I have:

_Hello, my name is Oliver Wood. _

I don't know what I'm supposed to write. "What makes you Oliver Wood?" Professor McGonagall had asked me.

"My birth certificate I suppose," I had told her.

The response was five points from Gryffindor for cheek. Honestly, that woman is so uptight. You think she'd be a little more lenient on members of her own house, especially those on the Quidditch team. Doesn't she want us to win the cup? My thoughts are interrupted by a boisterous voice I know all too well. "Watch ya doing there Oliver?" Fred Weasley asks sitting next to me on the couch.

"Thanks to Bell I'm writing an essay on what makes me Oliver Wood," I respond sourly.

Fred chuckles much to my dismay before quickly turning it into a cough. "Well that's easy," he says seizing the parchment out of my hands.

After two minutes of writing he hands my essay back. It now reads:

_Hello, my name is Oliver Wood. I eat, sleep, and breathe Quidditch. I take cruel pleasure in scheduling Dawn Practices as well as late night practices everyday. On and off the field I am a tyrant. No quidditch player shall have a moment of rest if I'm involved. Quidditch is the only thing I care about. _

I shake my head and frown. I care about other things than Quidditch. "Oh yeah, like what?" Fred asks when I voice my thoughts out loud.

Well, let's see what did I think about today? The upcoming match against Slytherin, the new play Alicia seems unable to do, Katie's haircut (but I wasn't going to say that), and when the next Quidditch practice would be. Okay, not helping.

"Just things," I say after failing to think of anything else.

"Yeah, whatever you say Wood," Fred says before strutting off to wreak havoc elsewhere.

At least its quiet now, silence is good. But after two or so minutes of contemplating what to write I'm beginning to miss the nagging. Right on schedule a voice calls, "Hey, Wood, working on a new play?"

I look up to see the ever smiling face of Alicia Spinnet. "No, I'm writing my essay," I tell her.

"Oh," Alicia says giggling, "Katie told me about that. How's it coming?"

I silently hand her the parchment. Alicia, who I'd always thought was the nicest on the team, burst out laughing. "You didn't write this did you?"

"No, Fred did," I respond, "It's not funny; I care about things other than Quidditch."

Alicia nods trying to look solemn, "Yes, yes of course you do Oliver. Here I'll help," she says pulling out her large peacock quill.

I thank her gratefully and watch as her face scrunches up in concentration. I'm lucky George isn't here; if he was she wouldn't be able to concentrate at all. Despite my constant demands of no inter-team dating, those two flirt constantly. Several minutes pass before my essay is back in my hands. Alicia watches me as I read. The latest addition says:

_Occasionally, I think about my team members' well being. I never fail to visit them when they're in the hospital wing. I even bring them chocolate or flowers although I do threaten them suspension from the team if they get injured any more times. So I suppose that does relate back to Quidditch. I tend to be inconsiderate, rude, and cocky too.. Perhaps that's due to the encouragement from my lovely fan girls who stalk me. The most notable thing about me though is my Scottish accent that attracts so many girls._

"I do not have a fan club!" I yell angrily decidedly ignoring the mean comments about my personality.

Alicia just points behind me. I turn around to see a group of girls ranging from first year to sixth staring at us or rather me. They giggle when I see them and a few boldly blow kisses. I choose to ignore this and turn back to Alicia.

"Well thanks Alicia," I say sarcastically, "That helps a lot."

Alicia smiled clueless. "No problem Oliver," she responds before walking up to her dorm.

I put my head in my hands and sigh. Maybe McGonagall will understand if I just hand this into her. Although she did ask for a whole roll of parchment and this is only a quarter. Then a cloud of foul smelling purple smoke appears to my left. I'm gagging from the bad smell when a voice says, "Why so down Wood?"

I jump nearly a foot off the couch and spring to my feet. I can hear someone laughing evilly from my right and turn around to see George Weasley. "Bloody Hell George, don't just pop out on me like that!" I yell angrily.

George holds up his hands feigning innocence while grinning. "Just testing out some original Weasley products," he tells me referring to the smoke.

I glare at him before deciding to take out my anger during tomorrow's Quidditch practice. I believe a few laps around the pitch are in order. "I'm writing my punishment essay," I tell him.

I'm getting sick of explaining what I'm doing to people. It's like today is annoy Oliver day. "Oh yeah I reckon Fred might've mentioned that earlier. Here I'll help you on your quest of defining the essence of Wood. I reckon you've mentioned Quidditch," George said and much to my annoyance snatched my essay.

What is with everyone saying I'm obsessed with Quidditch? I don't think about it that much! Yes, it occupies my brain most of the time but I do think of things like homework. I waited as he scribbled on my essay occasionally smirking mischievously. After a while, as if awarding me with a medal, he hands me back my essay. Bowing dramatically George tells me to read it so he could see my reaction.

_On top of my overly large ego and Quidditch obsessed brain there is my addiction to yelling. I love to yell at my teammates when they mess up. If you are walking on the grounds during one of the Quidditch practices you might hear, "We can't afford for you to drop the ball, Bell," or "Weasleys stop playing catch with the bludgers!" Yelling is also involved when one of my team members has detention or misses a practice due to the previous or an illness. The only thing more annoying than my constant yelling is my pep talks. They tend to go on for hours especially if it's a speech before practice. I should win an award for the most boring speeches in the history of the world._

I frowned, my speeches weren't that boring and I certainly didn't yell that much. "Weasley, I suggest you run," I told him.

My voice must've come out more threatening that I intended because George looked frightened and bolted out of the room faster than the new firebolt is rumored to fly. Oh dear, my comparisons involve Quidditch. I'm beginning to see what my teammates are talking about. "Something the matter Oliver?" Harry asks as he walks in with his two friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

I flinch when I see Ron; I still haven't gotten the image of him throwing up slugs out of my mind. "No, Potter, just writing my essay," I tell him.

Hermione looks up at the mention of an essay, "I can help if you'd like," she offers.

"Well it's not for school, it's supposed to describe what makes me Oliver Wood," I inform her noticing a disappointed look form on her face.

"Oh, in that case I can help," Harry offers.

I hand him my essay and thank him even though I'm pretty sure he won't be any more helpful than the rest. After writing a few sentences he hands me back the parchment and waves goodbye. Ron and Hermione sit with him in armchairs by the fire, expressions serious as they talk about something. I sincerely hope the trio isn't planning to save the school again, in first year we lost the cup because of their heroics. Forcing myself to concentrate on my essay I read what Harry has written.

_I can be very helpful to my teammates as well. I taught Harry Potter how to play Quidditch and I often compliment his skill. However, my practices due tend to be long and grueling. That's only because I'm trying to train the team well enough so that Gryffindor can finally claim the cup. Plus, I always stop when a team member is injured. _

I smile; Harry's entry was by far the nicest so I decide to overlook the part about long and grueling practices. At least now I'm almost done with my essay. I'm just about the pick up my quill and write when I'm interrupted by the cheerful voice of Angelina Johnson. "Working on that essay?" she asks while seating herself next to me.

"Yes, although I've only written one sentence my self."

Angelina laughs, "Well I may as well continue the tradition of other people writing for you."

She reads over what the others have written and makes a face, "This all concerns Quidditch, Wood," she says stating what I already know.

"Well I guess that's what makes me Oliver Wood," I respond shrugging.

"Don't you think it's a little sad that there's nothing here about hanging out with your friends?" she asks curiously.

I suppose she's right. "Not really," I lie.

"Wood you're the worst liar ever. I can see right through you just like I can when you deny that you like Katie even though you stare at her during practice," Angelina says smirking.

"I don't like Katie!" I yell, silently cursing my cheeks as I feel them heating up.

"Maybe they're should be something here about compulsive lying," she responds wittily.

As she begins to write on my essay I think about what she said. So what If I have the tendency to stare at Katie during practice? She's a pretty girl it's hard not to. It's not as if I think about her that often. Only once or twice a day but that's normal. Okay, maybe one or two of my dreams have involved her. That doesn't mean I like her! Alright so I've liked her since my fifth year, give me a break. "Wood," Angelina calls waving a hand in front of my face.

"What? Oh sorry," I apologize realizing I must've spaced out.

"Thinking of Katie?" She teases, smirking once more.

My cursed cheeks heat up again, "No!"

"Whatever, just read what I wrote," Angelina commands.

I look at my now complete essay.

_There is one thing I care about other than Quidditch; my long time friend and teammate Katie Bell. We've been friends since she joined the team back in her second year. Even though she's three years younger I can't help but think about her all the time. You see I've never told anyone but I love her. So I suppose it's not only my Quidditch obsession, ego, fan club, Scottish accent, boring speeches, and constant yelling that makes me Oliver Wood. Without Katie I'd be just another typical bloke who plays Quidditch and has an inflated head. _

I can't believe Johnson just wrote that on my school essay. I'm going to have to burn it now. "Johnson I'm going to kill you!" I yell angrily.

Angelina just grins evilly, an expression fit for the Weasley twins before hollering, "Oi, Katie Oliver wants you to read his essay!" before running off.

My eyes widen in horror as Katie makes her way towards me. "Well let's see it then," she says her hand outstretched expectantly.

"No! You can't read it!" I say perhaps a bit too aggressively.

She looks startled, "Why not?"

Then her eyes widened and she smirks, "Is their something personal on there? Perhaps about a person you fancy?"

For the third time my cheeks heat up and I shake my head. "No just boring old stuff," I lie.

I seem to be doing a lot of that these days. Perhaps I should have written compulsive liar somewhere in my essay. "Oliver, hasn't anyone ever told you that you're the worst liar ever?" Katie asks.

Actually, Angelina just did. "I am not!" I respond.

Without warning Katie pounces on me and yanks the essay from my hands. "No!" I scream frantically chasing her around the common room trying to get it back.

Katie simply flicks her wands and my feet are glued to the floor. Well that's just spiffing, now she'll know I have a crush on her. At first I try to pry my feet from the ground but eventually succumb to defeat and watch despairingly as she laughs while reading my essay. "I hate Angelina," I think to myself, "I'm going to have to murder her." Then her eyes begin to widen and blush creeps up her cheeks. I can't help but notice she's smiling a little. "Maybe she likes me?" I think before crossing out that idea in my mind.

Katie looks up at me and I blush, "I didn't-" I start to say but she cuts me off.

"Oliver why didn't you tell me you liked me?" she asks.

I gulp, all I can manage to say is, "I don't know."

"How long?" she asks still looking intently at me.

I try my hardest to look away from her. "Since my fifth year," I mumble while thinking of how much I hate Angelina right now and how awful today has been.

Katie's smile widens, "Well Mr. Wood, what would you say if I said I liked you too?"

I grin widely and when she gets close enough to me I kiss her. I can feel her kissing me back and when we break apart she's grinning just as broadly as me. "Well, I'm off to bed," she declares.

"Bye Katie," I say, kissing her once more.

She waves goodnight and then adds, "Hang on, you're essay is missing something."

I watch as she adds something to the end of my essay and then writes something at the top. She looks up and sees me watching. "I've changed it so the last sentence says without my girlfriend Katie. I've also added that I've liked you since my first year here and a title that George suggested earlier on," she informs me.

"It's perfect," I tell her truthfully once I've read the top that now reads 'The Essence of Wood.'

As she walks away I can't help but think maybe today isn't so bad after all. I suppose I won't have to kill Angelina, maybe thank her instead. It's not until Katie's disappeared into her dorm when I realize I'm still stuck to the floor. "Oi, Bell! I think you've forgotten to release me!"


End file.
